


the precinct's worse hours

by Tias



Series: modern times, modern errors (a twist of fate) [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Modern AU - Police / Bodguards / Assassins, My Poor Boys, Sexual implications, Snark & Attempts at Banter, aka I shitpost when I need to get out of a writing rut, and by some extent Obito and Shisui, for now, if not already achieved banter, this is pure shitposting and I only have one (1) plan for a serious tidbit, what better way to get out of it other than bullying Madara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tias/pseuds/Tias
Summary: “The only king I could dress you up as is the king of profound stupidity,” he mused, “and the only ornaments to be put inside is the golden turd Deidara was so kind to gift you. Madara Uchiha, otherwise known as ‘the king of shit’, has a rather nice ring to it. Golden shit, at that.”“A nicer ring than Tobirama Senju, prince of spewing pure and utter unneeded assholery regardless of the intent of his words, could ever have.”Tobirama, amused, continued staring him down. “Already too long to be as efficient as ‘king of shit’.”“Fine. King of assholery it is,” Madara waved him off. He leaned over the table to collect the proffered treats and coffee, fingertips brushing over Tobirama’s when attempting to handle the plastic cup. “Do you mind, king of assholery?”“In fact, yes I do, king of shit.”Obito, who had now been standing there for several minutes hearing their back and forth, squinted with a look of mild disgust. “This is the worst flirting I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he commented.





	the precinct's worse hours

**Author's Note:**

> why yes, I do pull ridiculous scenarios out of my ass when I need a dash of creativity and more so when trying to write the beginning of an elemental warring kingdom AU
> 
> and my tags are out of order, why this

It was not often that the second floor was ever active in the morning, but since Deidara’s arrival, surely everything went to utter shit, as was evidenced by current police officers Madara and Obito cowering beneath a desk.

“We just have to wait out until Kisame or Itachi arrive, this can’t be that hard-” Obito started, only to stop as Madara’s palm covered his mouth. Unequivocal fear loomed in the darkness of his eyes, sheer exhaustion displayed through bags that grew bags that also grew bags upon the lower lids. Perhaps even more bags if Obito could find himself a magnifying glass.

From a raging artist to policeman, countless vulgarities filled the office space at a volume that could potentially pierce through eardrums if one were unfortunately close enough.

Before Obito could bite Madara’s hand and continue speaking, Deidara had been silenced via the elevator ring. His head snapped to discern the first to exit, almost viciously. Madara and Obito both brought their hands together, offering silent prayers.

A head of silver hair popped out of the elevator, yawning loudly.

Charred spikes poked from beyond the table edge, eyes scanning the premises. Deidara, whose attention suddenly negated the Uchihas’ existence entirely, leapt off the table he currently used as a throne and charged, loosing a battle cry. With no time to spare and the certified sound of a thud, Madara grabbed Obito by the collar and dragged him into the only known place of sanctity: his office.

“You know-” “ _You filthy atheist, get off me!”_ “-sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it to stay a bit longer to hear Hidan grunt as he’s tackled to the floor,” Obito mused.

“I will patiently wait for the day that Deidara somehow befriends you and uses you as a tackling board,” Madara breathed. “And then I will wait for the day he uses you as a canvas, because surely that can’t go wrong, right?”

He received a scowl, a look of betrayal and a hand that searched the comfort of its chest. “Who let you curse me like this? If this ends up happening-” “ _YOU STOLE MY ART SUPPLIES, UN!”_ “-I’m going to let Deidara know about your secret stash of art supplies in the third drawer to your left.”

“And then I’ll tell Deidara that  _you’ve_ been the one stealing his art supplies to paint some horrendous depiction of a garden straight out of the fourth ring of hell. That way not only will Deidara hunt you, but our one and only zealot will puncture you with his miniature scythe,” Madara grinned. Victory gleamed in his eyes and Obito had to take a moment, breathing heavily and holding his head in his hands.

Another elevator ding had both heads turn, squinting at the next poor soul. To Madara’s surprise, it was Shisui who was carefully stepping over tangled bodies: a specific zealot threatening the length of an artist’s hair and said artist threatening to blow up the zealot's desk for a week straight. Approaching Madara’s door, Shisui looked down to the door knob that refused to twist.

Thus, a degree of betrayal morphed Shisui’s easygoing expression into sheer terror.

Ear drums thumped with the sound of a racing heartbeat, erasing sounds of an argument ominously growing closer and louder. Both hands clasped the little sphere of metal restricting him from sanctitude, rattling away. Both a paper bag and plastic cup almost met their end upon landing. Madara offered a prayer as Obito tended to the tear he shed.

However.

None of it stopped Obito from recording Shisui being pounced on like a gazelle by a pair of hyenas, promptly sent to any and all relevant group chats that contained the precinct or Shisui’s relatives and colleagues.

“Wait a second,” Madara pressed himself against the glass pane, breathing hard enough on the surface to leave partial condensation, “Shisui has my morning pastries. He- Obito, he- _my coffee!_ ”

“Don’t you dare look at me, I’m not leaving this office until Itachi and Kakuzu come in to wrangle them into the soundproof room.”

“But I can’t function without my morning coffee!” Madara whined.

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to curse me!”

“Cursing you comes naturally, get out there and get me my coffee!”

“You have a phone! Use it and find someone who’s willing to die for you!”

“None of you assholes are willing to die for me and coffee!” he yelled.

“Then call your boyfriend!”

“I don’t have one!”

“Tobirama!”

“He’d spend the day mocking me for being caged in my office, how dare you suggest him of all people!”

Obito stared and squinted at his colleague, who mimicked his own earlier posture. “Because he’s the one who always brings you pastries and coffee whenever Shisui doesn’t!”

“ _Shisui is here, numbskull! He’s here and he’s on the fl- oh gods, oh sweet gods above what if he spilled my coffee?!_ ” Such a question prompted Madara to squish himself against the window, attempting to find a plastic cup filled with the coveted ichor of coffee deities. He spotted it close to the door, alarmed by how wild the three were thrashing that could potentially harm his sole cure for the day. Madara inhaled deeply, pulled away and righted himself. “Obito, we’ve got a rescue to take care of.”

“No, you mean _you_ have a rescue to take care of,” answered Obito.

“No, I meant _we_ have a rescue to take care of. Get your ears checked, otherwise you might just tempt me to buy a megaphone and direct it into your ears.”

“You’ll backstab me!”

“If you get my coffee I won’t!”

“I’m only opening the door!”

“This is ridiculous- fine! I’ll rescue my own damn coffee!”

Obito was right to be incredulous, more so that he was the first to undo the lock and begin to open the door. The three were busy bickering, leaving Madara to lower himself to the floor, stick his arm out of the opening and collect his goods.

He squawked loudly when Shisui grabbed his arm, a pleading look stitched to his face alongside that of pain.

 _Tremendous_ pain.  

“ _There has to be a sacrifice for coffee, Shisui, you know this_ ,” Madara whispered, rubbing the back of his hand against his nostrils, suppressing make-believe tears. “ _Thank you, I’ll never forget this._ ”

“ _You’ve already forgotten you rotten bastard!_ ” Shisui squeaked.

“ _You’re my damned bodyguard for a reason! You protect my coffee and pastries! Sent by god himself- wait. Wait no, no no no, not god-_ ”

“ _Oh? So Tobirama’s god? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it once I get out of this damned pi-_ ”

“ _Shisui Uchiha, do not test me, I will handcuff you to my table and starve you if it means not a word comes out of your mouth abou-_ ” The feel of vibrations evoked the pursing of lips and the smack of a palm against his rear, fishing out his phone. With the swipe of a thumb came the immediate change in demeanour. “Madara Uchiha, how can I be of-”

“ _God here, I was wondering how you found the coffee and pastries,_ ” came the answer.

“How in literal fuck’s name did you hear?! It was uttered a minute ago at most - not even!”

“ _Try looking behind you._ ”

When Madara had managed to crane his head, he stared directly into the eyes of his betrayer. His backstabber.

The one and only: Obito.

Madara took only one deep breath. One that could potentially suck in a human depending on the size. Think the size of an entire Obito Uchiha if it meant he would disappear from sight. “You absolute shithead. I’m going to send you to the archives for a month.”

“At least you’re dating god?” Obito shrugged.

“ _If you get me out of here, the coffee’ll survive!_ ” Shisui promised.

But with such attempts and the aggression from Deidara and Hidan rising, the life of his coffee would not come to thrive and no amount of crying solved the issue.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, Madara paced his small office endlessly, staring down his papers as if they were feral animals ready to lunge at him. From just outside, a few cubicles down in an entirely different office, he could hear the start of a tirade. Or perhaps it was already the midway point.

With Deidara, he simply never knew.  

“--- _THESE BASTARDS ARE DISRESPECTING MY ART, I’LL SHOW THEM EXACTLY WHO THEY’RE MESSING WITH, UN! ---”_

Whatever pinch of energy he had left in him had vanished under mysterious circumstances (read: the coming of his former partner paired with Deidara’s foul motor of a mouth working). From the corner of his peripherals, he noted a taller male with stark white hair approaching and he instinctively threw himself onto his chair, swivelling too quickly for his liking. The click of the doorknob announced his entrance and Madara inhaled deeply, sharply mid turn.

“You seem to have an eccentric newcomer,” Tobirama commented. He set down a paper bag filled with pastries and a black coffee, bought out of the sheer goodness of his (supposedly) shrivelling heart.

He also waited for Madara to halt his awkward swivelling.

“If you’re talking about Deidara, he is going to be every single nail to my coffin. Assassins be damned, they don’t compare to the shit he pulls off in here!” Madara exclaimed, thrusting out an arm, all whilst continuously swivelling. “Pair him up with Hidan and you might as well evacuate the damn building and call officers of another precinct over to get them locked up. Only Kakuzu can do something because they’re idiots whose silences are easily bought by money, but _he’s taken his first day off in years._ This is the first and only instance I’ll ever love debt for the pure fact that they’re in debt and Kakuzu takes full advantage of it. _”_

Tobirama’s imagination birthed plumes of steam drifting off the evermoving officer despite the deadened stare he offered. “He has a fever, of course Nagato won’t let him into the office. I don’t believe it, but it’s what I was told by Hinata. Steering off the topic of-”

“What sort of fucking,” he paused to view Tobirama on the coming turn, “dumbass policeman rigs his office door,” paused again, “with FIRECRACKERS, Tobirama?!  Whenever,” paused one last time, “I try to get in there, my brain voids the knowledge of those firecrackers and I get scared shitless EVERY. SINGLE. TIME,” Madara’s final addendum came through the triple thud created by his forehead and table surface, prompting Tobirama to tighten his hold on the gifted black coffee. “I’m greying already!”

“I was going say that explains why you look decrepit but you’ve looked this way since before he was accepted,” Tobirama deadpanned, angling his head to view the now pair of soulless pieces of charcoal in replacement for eyes. Madara grimaced, straightening his posture to strain the muscles in his neck and craft himself an expert secondary layer of skin beneath his existing chin, nostrils flaring accordingly.

“Thank you for adding a silk interior to my coffin, would you like to dress me up as a king and add ornaments too?” Madara asked with an eerie flat tone.

“The only king I could dress you up as is the king of profound stupidity,” he mused, “and the only ornaments to be put inside is the golden turd Deidara was so kind to gift you. Madara Uchiha, otherwise known as ‘the king of shit’, has a rather nice ring to it. Golden shit, at that.”

“A nicer ring than Tobirama Senju, prince of spewing pure and utter unneeded assholery regardless of the intent of his words, could ever have.”

Tobirama, amused, continued staring him down. “Already too long to be as efficient as ‘king of shit’.”

“Fine. King of assholery it is,” Madara waved him off. He leaned over the table to collect the proffered treats and coffee, fingertips brushing over Tobirama’s when attempting to handle the plastic cup. “Do you mind, king of assholery?”

“In fact, yes I do, king of shit.”

Obito, who had now been standing there for several minutes hearing their back and forth, squinted with a look of mild disgust. “This is the worst flirting I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he commented.

Madara ignored Obito’s entire being even prior to opening his maw. “Don’t test me, asshole, I’ll fuck you in this office right here and now with no regard to who sees or if my job’ll be on the line.”

“You’re into voyeurism?”

“Please don’t, I like seeing. Also - a better question would be what he _isn’t_ into. You know what? I dare you to come up with a list,” said Obito, directed towards Tobirama.

“That includes talking to him more than necessary, no thank you,” Tobirama muttered.

“You bring him treats and coffee! Where do you draw your line?!”

“ _Curiosity killed the cat_ ,” Tobirama reminded.

“You’re both disgusting. I’m handing in my resignation form.”

“Godspeed,” said Madara, offhandedly.

Obito blinked once. Twice. Thrice until his brows rocketed. “Wh- you’re not even going to fight for me to stay?!”

Madara offered a questioning look, a curve of his mouth stretched out. “No? Why would I?”

“ _No wonder you suit each other!_ ” Obito yelled, storming out of the office.

Tobirama moved towards the door, leaving the coffee behind for Madara to finally claim. With a bump of the rear, he shut the door and returned, palms pressed to the table edge. “Yes, I am into voyeurism, as I know your undying curiosity would have begged the question at some point,” Madara announced and no expression deemed if it was the truth or not.

Tobirama recoiled. “Thank you for the unnecessary tidbit, I’m already in the process of mentally incinerating it.”

“I’ll just have to remind you every day then.”

“I’ll find a way to silence you.”

“Some cloth, please. Gag me nice and tight. Don’t be a brute about it-” Madara bit down on his pastries; hooded lids glimmering with mischievousness.

“Crackling old leather from one of the oldest buses in the city, you got it.”

“What did I just say?”

“Impressive that you think I register most of what exits your mouth with seriousness.”

“You do,” Madara smirked. “You always have and always will.” The bag of pastries and coffee found themselves away from his mouth and instead in the air.

“Thank you for giving me the cue to leave, you were taking your time.”

“Be a darling and get me a fruit tart next time.”

“How do you manage to make ' _darling_ ' have such a bad ring to it?”

“Because you have fine tuned your ears to make anything I say an immediate proclamation straight from the devil’s asscrack.”

“Your voice just seems to have that effect.” Tobirama now set himself in motion to leave, lingering at the door with a fond gaze. “It is cute to think that people do not think I know all your kinks already. You are, by the way, into voyeurism.”

Madara, halfway through munching on a piece of his muffin, swallowed all too abruptly and proceeded to choke.


End file.
